Alone
by A Purple Atlantis
Summary: Lizzie Bennet Diaries - set just after The Lydia Bennet Episode 17. Oneshot. Lydia is alone at Carter's, and she's not quite sure how her life got this lame. Currently canon-compliant.


Carter's is as full as a middle-sized town bar could be on a Wednesday night. The dim, yellowish light illuminates the slightly dusty surfaces and questionable stains that are the lot of a less-than-moderately successful pub. During swimming season, the windows would be washed, the floor mopped and the benches cleaned at the end of every night, but, for now, Carter's is mainly the haunt of lonely semi-alcoholics who wouldn't care less about the stains, if they looked beyond their glass. There are four men who are obviously regulars – their conversation is loud enough and coarse enough to show that they are familiar with both their company and their setting. Up at the bar, the barman is idly inspecting a rag – he glances up for a second, reaching below the counter for a glass, but Harriet shakes her head – no, she isn't drinking tonight. She scans the room, aware that the chances of finding Lydia here are high – this is a favourite haunt of hers, she knows. Jane – sweet Jane, who had helped her pass Biology in school – had called, telling her that Lydia was out-of-sorts, asking – amid a number of apologies for the inconvenience – that Harriet take the time to check-up-on her wayward younger sister. Harriet, never having repaid the debt, was happy to oblige.

Spying bright red hair in the farthest corner, Harriet makes her way over, sliding onto the bench next to the girl whose face is as morose as a twenty-year-old's can be.

"Hey, Lydia, what's up?" Fingering her shot-glass, Lydia glances up, eyes narrowing.

"Jane put you up to this, didn't she?" Not expecting to be caught out so soon, Harriet stutters a moment before admitting that Jane had called her.

"Well, I guess someone cares then," Lydia mutters into her glass. Before Harriet can interrupt, Lydia goes on. "Unlike Lizzie or Mary or Mum or Dad or anyone, you know, who just _ugh_ and they're like 'Lydia you're so flirty and fun and _awesome_ I guess you just don't have any _feelings_ – hic – and we don't actually need to worry about you and how you're going and how maybe you're _not okay_' – hic-"

Harriet realises, then, that Lydia is actually drunk well past the point of tipsy – her red-eyes were the first giveaway, but Lydia seems to be unaware that she's talking aloud.

"Jane doesn't have time for me anymore with her new job and LA and trying to get a boyfriend and then there's Lizzie – who's never liked me – off with Charlotte and that douche Ricky Collins and she can't even be bothered responding to my texts-"

Lydia is working herself up into quite a state now, draining the last of the liquid from her glass and slamming it down on the table loudly enough to attract attention, the corners of her mouth quivering all the while as she tries to keep back the sobs.

"And then I finally thought that Mary was my friend but she's just pulling away and she doesn't want to spend any time with me – what does _I need the money _even mean anyway? – and I guess I was wrong but I thought that family was forever – _hic _– and ever and ever…" She's sobbing now, and doesn't bother to wipe away the tears.

"…and ever and ever and _ever_…" Harriet doesn't quite know what to do with the mess in front of her, but she's always liked Lydia and she's Jane's sister so she has to do _something_. Hesitantly, she reaches her arms out for Lydia and Lydia falls clumsily into the hug. After a few moments, when her sobs have calmed, Lydia says brokenly –

"I'm just so _alone_." The final word holds so much pain and anguish that you'd think that everyone she loved had died – but then, this is Lydia, who'd always been fond of intensity.

"Okay, Lydia." Harriet speaks for the first time. "I'm going to call you a taxi, okay? I can't drive you home – I didn't bring my car with me – but I'll give you the fare, all right? You need to go home and get to bed."

Harriet leaves before Lydia can protest that she, too, is treating Lydia like a child who can't look after herself.

It never occurs to her that maybe she can't.

* * *

While Harriet is gone, Lydia dwells further on her loneliness. If only there was _someone_ who would treat her like an adult worthy of their attention. If she didn't get that treatment from her family, then where would she get it?

She's distracted by her phone's message tone. The message is nothing special – _how's it going?_, almost moronic in its simplicity, but Lydia is past caring about that. Quickly, she replies, and receives another text as Harriet returns from her call.

* * *

As Harriet walks over to Lydia, she can't help but be surprised by the change in her demeanour. Her back is straight as she reads something on her phone, and a smile plays around the edge of her mouth.

"Who's texting you?" Lydia glances up, having already forgotten about Harriet.

"Oh, nobody. Just George Wickham."

* * *

**Okay, so despite the fact that I swore never to write fanfiction ever again because I'm horrible at it, I went through all of the trouble of figuring out my password because I was struck by inspiration.**

**I totally failed at building up tension and misery and the DUN DUN DUN at the end but I got sick of it and posted it anyway.**

**Here's the deal - I wrote this for your enjoyment, and in return you're not allowed to look at my profile or any of my past stories because they suck.**

**Anyway, enjoy.**


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